


The Light of a New Dawn

by morganoconner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-28 14:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/308833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morganoconner/pseuds/morganoconner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a single moment of weakness that changed everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light of a New Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [](http://sassy_minibang.livejournal.com/profile)[**sassy_minibang**](http://sassy_minibang.livejournal.com/) 2011 challenge. Please go [here](http://reapertownusa.livejournal.com/44341.html) to see the gorgeous artwork by reapertownusa!

Castiel was not lying to Dean. He meant every word he said, about the dangers of retrieving Sam's soul, of putting it – shredded and broken as it was – back into his body. For Sam's sake, Castiel thought it was a bad idea. The younger of the Winchester brothers shouldn't be forced to suffer even greater torture simply because Dean couldn't bear to be without him.

So Castiel was certainly not lying.

It was possible that he was omitting certain pertinent details. But that was neither here nor there.

The truth was, when Castiel went into the panic room after Death's visit, when he reached in to search the ebbs and flows of Sam's soul, he was not thinking of himself or the secret within him at all. His concern was solely for Sam. And as he expected, he didn't like what he found.

The wall in Sam's mind was a fragile thing. The slightest breeze would topple it with no effort. And how would Sam react, Castiel wondered, to knowing what he'd –

Well.

Sam, even the Sam of the last year and a half, didn't know everything. He knew enough, but not everything. Assuming he awoke, assuming he came out of this with his mind intact, assuming he ever even remembered…

Castiel would just have to deal with that then. And hopefully, if that time came, the knowledge wouldn't break Sam even further.

He brushed a hand softly against Sam's cheek, sent a fervent, desperate, _useless_ prayer to his Father, and finally left the panic room. Perhaps Dean, waiting just outside the door, would prove himself a convenient outlet for some of the indescribable frustration building up inside him.

~

Castiel didn't dream the way he once had as a human, but having been human, even for so brief a period of time, did leave him with the ability to experience something like dreams.

Not that it was a blessing. Quite the opposite, in fact.

But when he first began fighting for what amounted to days on end, growing weaker with every clash between his forces and Raphael's, he found that his grace suddenly required rest at the oddest moments, usually without any kind of warning. He didn't sleep during these times; his mind remained conscious and he still had the ability to perceive and understand the things happening around him. But he was forced to stop and…recharge his batteries, as Dean put it. Which involved closing his senses down as much as possible and allowing his awareness to drift.

When he drifted, he remembered.

Angelic memories never faded. They never disappeared, and they never altered. They simply existed, as clear and as bright as when the depicted events were first experienced. Castiel had lived a long life, and he could recall each and every moment with perfect clarity.

Before Dean, before humanity, he had lived his life moment to moment, one order to the next, and rarely thought on his past unless it was necessary. He would be forever grateful to Dean for many things, but this was one aspect of his life from before that he truly missed – the ease of accepting and carrying out his orders, nothing else to eat at his mind or weigh at his grace.

Now, being forced to remember, there was pain, dragging him down and making everything so much more difficult. The memories he was forced to relive were not happy. They were not hopeful.

One single moment of weakness, one split-second bad decision, and now he was being made to see it over and over, knowing he should have done things differently. Knowing too that whatever guilt he felt could never reach the levels that Sam would feel once he inevitably discovered the truth.

He comforted himself with the knowledge that it wasn't all bad. The experience itself, perhaps (though only depending on the light it was viewed in), and certainly the ramifications for a newly re-souled Sam. But the most immediate consequence…how could he possibly regret that?

It didn't make the memories easier to bear, but it did make the bearing of them worth it.

He tried to remember that as he drifted now, as his thoughts turned again to that day, the stale air inside the abandoned house, the way the failure of the day felt like it was crushing him…

_He only means to inform the Winchesters that the job is taken care of, the monsters in Crowley's building destroyed. He'll stop in, deliver that one bit of good news, and return to the war efforts in Heaven. What else can he do? Sam's soul out of reach, Dean ready to tear Hell apart to find it…_

_Castiel's resources are limited, and he's already been away too long. He hates it, hates the idea of leaving, but what else is there for him to do?_

_But when he gets there, Sam is alone, pacing the floor and cursing at his brother and Castiel wants to help. This is_ Sam _, with or without a soul, and Castiel desperately wants to help him._

_"Is everything all right?" he asks._

_He should be able to see, the way Sam's eyes dilate, the cold gleam that enters them, the predatory smile. But he's tired, so very tired, his energy drained and his thoughts chaotic, and all he sees is the shift forward, the hand reaching out. All he feels is the hard press of Sam's body to his own as he pulls them together and breathes into Castiel's shoulder. All he hears is the sigh, his name on Sam's lips, the plea for comfort._

_He tries. He really does try. "Sam, you are not yourself. You don't understand what you want, your body simply craves –" He doesn't know, not really. Speaking of things he has no understanding of, because he's never done those things, never_ had occasion _to understand._

_Sam knows this. "Cas," he says, trailing one hand down to the jut of Castiel's hip. "I'm still me. I may not have all the same senses or…instincts, but I know what I want. What I've always wanted. What I always felt." He's backing them up now, pressing Castiel against the wall by the front door, and Castiel doesn't understand why he hasn't stopped this yet, why his breathing is so erratic as he tilts his head back on a soft moan._

_"Sam, no, you must stop." He doesn't mean it, doesn't even remember why he's trying to argue when Sam's thigh pushes between his legs and presses so exquisitely against his rapidly hardening length. "Sam…."_

_"You remember when I asked you to take care of Dean and Bobby, Cas?" Sam's forehead is resting against Castiel's, warm breath on the angel's lips. "It was because I trusted you. You were fallen and powerless, but I knew I could still depend on you. But even more than that, it was because…" He pauses, leans in to ghost a kiss to the side of Castiel's mouth. Shifts so he can whisper in his ear, "It was because I loved you, Cas."_

_And Castiel, weakened and hopeless and wanting so much, doesn't hear the past tense or see the gleam of victory in Sam's eyes. He stops his half-hearted attempt to fight, turns his head. Presses his mouth to Sam's and loses himself completely._

_He gives in, because it's easy, and because he wants to believe so badly…_

So badly.

And he could never take that back.

Castiel came back to himself feeling agitated and anxious, more worn now than he'd been when he first let himself drift. His lieutenant was by his side within moments, reporting to him with casualties and advances and strategies and probabilities. Things that once upon a time, this angel never would have had cause to know of.

Castiel was so tired, but there was no rest to be had. Not for him. Not for any of them.

Not now.

~

And yet just like that, things suddenly came to a head.

Not with Sam, not with the memories that refused to fade, but with Raphael. Castiel should have expected it, really. The war had already been one nearly impossible battle after another, and that was when he'd been at the top of his game. Weakened in so many ways, he should never have expected to last long, but when the archangel finally caught up with him, he still somehow found himself surprised.

This was how it would end? After everything, this was it?

He wanted to bow his head, turn away from Raphael's cold, calculating presence, but he forced himself to face the archangel head-on. If this was to be the end, he would face it like the soldier, the warrior, he was.

"You have given me much trouble, Castiel." Raphael in his true form was terrifying to behold. No words in any language man had created could describe the gravity, the power, of such a presence. When he spoke, he spoke with thunder in every word. "But no longer. Today, you will die."

Castiel stood firm, sword in hand. Unthinkingly, his other hand drifted up, pressed against the abdomen of the vessel he now wore constantly, even here.

Raphael either failed to notice or didn't care. His own sword materialized in his hand, and he stepped forward.

It was like several of humanity's nuclear bombs exploding across his senses all at once. A light so intense it seared Castiel's vision, and he cried out, held up a hand to shield his eyes. Felt the heat from within him as it burst out, every nerve-ending on fire. Heard the scream of a dying angel and thought it must surely be his own.

Heaven faded around him and all went blissfully dark.

~

"Cas? Cas! Wake up, you bastard, I don't need this shit right now. _Cas!_ "

Castiel winced at Dean's voice beating him into wakefulness. His head ached fiercely, and his skin felt like shards of glass were slicing into it every time he so much as twitched. His mouth felt dry, and his eyes might as well have been sewn shut for all the luck he was having trying to open them.

He hadn't physically felt this awful since his brief time being human.

"Dean?" he murmured, and though it couldn't have been more than the faintest whisper, Dean's hand was suddenly on his arm, his voice frantic in Castiel's ear.

"Cas! You okay? Jesus, man, what the hell happened?"

"I don't –"

"God in Heaven," a familiar voice cut in, and Castiel tensed, though it made everything inside him hurt to do so. "Can't you see he's not up to answering your every probing question right now? Let him _breathe_ , you ape."

"Balthazar," Castiel said. "What…" He tried to open his eyes, needed to see, needed to understand what was happening. The last thing he remembered was Raphael, and then…

"Easy, Cas," Balthazar said, and now there was another hand on him, his forehead this time. He thought he heard Dean shuffle back a bit, wondered what it cost him to do so. "That little light show upstairs took a fair bit out of you, you're not going to want to push yourself quite yet."

Warmth flowed from where Balthazar's fingers were pressed into his skin. Castiel breathed easier as some of the more immediate pain was relieved, but any sort of movement was still beyond him, it seemed, and his mouth still felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Water?" he asked. At least if he could talk, he could get answers.

"Not feeling quite up to snuff, eh, Cas?" Balthazar's hand moved back, lifting Castiel's head enough so that when he felt the cool glass being pressed to his lips, he was able to swallow the water without choking on it. It slid over his tongue and down his throat in sweet relief, and he sighed his thanks.

"There now, get some rest, the answers will come later."

Castiel wanted to argue, to get those all-too-important answers now, and if Dean's voice in the background was any indication, he did as well. But those gentle fingers were against his forehead again, and this time, they brought with them the cool comfort of sleep, and Castiel knew no more.

~

The next time he woke, Castiel was able to open his eyes, which led to at least one immediate discovery. Somehow, he had ended up in Bobby's panic room, on a cot that was a fair bit more comfortable than the one Sam was usually given, with a soft blanket over him and none of the usual handcuffs or other binding tools anywhere in sight.

He was alone, for the moment, which gave him time to analyze how he was feeling and come to the conclusion that it was _not good_. Though the discomfort he was in had decreased significantly from before, he also still ached in several places, and his eyes felt gritty, and he was _starving_.

Hunger was something he associated with humanity, and to be feeling it now gave him a bone-deep chill. If he was human, what did that mean for…

He gasped, something like terror giving him the strength to throw the cover off and press a hand to his stomach. Closing his eyes and reaching, reaching –

"She's still there, never fear." Balthazar's voice cut smoothly through Castiel's panic, and his eyes flew open to focus on the other angel. "Cassie, you should have told…all right, well, not me, I suppose, I wasn't exactly around for tea parties. But _someone_."

Castiel swallowed, sitting up even though every muscle screamed in protest. His shoes and his coat were both gone, and he idly wondered where Dean had put them as his socked feet pressed against the cold concrete floor. "I need to know what's going on," he said, fixing what he hoped was a stern gaze on his once closest friend.

"What, you mean after your little bun in the oven roasted Raphael and left him as little more than an imprint on the cosmos?" Balthazar raised an eyebrow, giving Castiel only half a moment to try and parse that into something his mind was willing to accept. "Well," he continued casually. "After that, I was slinking around trying to find out what happened when, wonder of wonders, the wonder twins summoned me here, and I found you lying broken and half-dead in Robert Singer's living room. From there, it wasn't a hardship to discover your little secret."

Castiel stared hard at Balthazar, wondering if this was something he needed to worry about. He wanted to believe he could trust Balthazar, but Balthazar was not the angel he remembered from so long ago, either.

"Don't worry, my friend," Balthazar said after a long moment. "You've nothing to fear from me. Not even Heckle and Jeckle know what happened. I thought they'd take it better coming from you than me, if you do indeed intend to tell them."

It occurred to Castiel, rather belatedly, that this was the second time Balthazar has made mention of _both_ the Winchester brothers. His heart seized when he realized what that meant.

Sam was awake.

~

Balthazar left soon after that, probably realizing that Castiel had other things on his mind now. He gave a very brief description of the wards he'd placed around the perimeter of the house, and left several valuable weapons in Castiel's care should he find himself needing the extra protection.

"Oh, and Cas," he'd said as his wings spread. "Fair warning. He doesn't remember anything."

Castiel didn't allow himself to dwell on it. It wasn't much of a surprise, at any rate.

Instead, he thought about something safe. Like the ease with which Balthazar gave up some of the priceless hoard he'd acquired for himself. Was this truly just an act of goodwill from one friend to another, or did Balthazar have something up his sleeve, as he always seemed to now?

But even that wasn't something he could dwell on for long. Not when he could hear feet pounding down the cellar stairs, not when Castiel was about to be faced with questions he couldn't answer and problems he couldn't fix and…

_Sam._

Sam came through the door first, his brow furrowed and his eyes worried and looking like so much more than Castiel knew how to handle right now. The hunter didn't hesitate, didn't even pause when he saw Castiel awake. He simply took three long strides over to the cot and pulled the angel up and into his arms and breathed him in like Castiel was something precious to him.

 _Father, what am I supposed to do?_ Castiel wondered, even as he clung to the hunter. Because this was Sam, this was _really_ Sam, the Sam who cared about him, who called Castiel a friend and meant it.

This was who Castiel had wanted that night, and this was who he'd been sure he'd never see again.

Castiel had never been hugged before, but if this was what it was like, he prayed it wouldn't be the only time he was allowed to experience it. The comfort of Sam's arms was more paradise than Heaven could ever be.

He felt Dean clap him on his shoulder, looked over and met his eyes and hoped it conveyed his relief that Sam was all right, and his gratitude to them both for caring for him.

"It's really good to see you awake, Cas," Sam said when he finally pulled away.

"You as well, Sam." Castiel held Sam's eyes for a long moment, drinking him in. Feeling the warmth of his soul in the glimmer in his eyes.

"You two are gonna be the goddamn death of me," Dean grumbled. "You plan on telling us what happened?" This, he directed to Castiel as he crossed his arms and tried to look intimidating. His eyes belied it, telling Castiel that mostly Dean was just relieved, but he answered him all the same.

"Raphael was destroyed," he said, and for the first time, he allowed himself to dwell on it. The idea that the war was over, that he'd _won_ , and that he hadn't had to give up everything that made him who he was to do it. Hadn't been forced to sell himself to the devil.

His…Father, his _child_ had ensured his victory and kept him safe.

 _Their_ child. His and Sam's daughter, if Balthazar was to be believed.

Castiel suddenly felt that he might be better off sitting again, the way his head was beginning to spin.

"You all right?" Dean asked when his legs practically buckled and he had to grasp at the cot to keep himself from falling.

"Weak," he said. "Dizzy. It's a lot to take in." And they didn't know the half of it yet. "Balthazar tells me that the…the way things happened, I was left particularly drained. I'll be grounded for a while. All but human." It should rankle, with how much he'd hated it once before. But he was _safe_ this time, or as safe as he could be, and Sam was awake. Dean was no longer looking at him as though Castiel had betrayed him. Things were as good as Castiel could have hoped for. Better than he'd ever dared to.

But there were secrets he needed to share, and no way of knowing how they would impact things. Fear curled around his heart, oil slick and cold, but he didn't let it stop him from looking at each of the brothers in turn as he said, "We should probably talk."

~

The living room was silent when Cas finished speaking. He'd only told the brothers about the war, and how it had ended, and the lengths he'd been willing to go to, and already they looked dazed and a little bit shaken.

"It's been that bad?" Sam asked, so much worry in his eyes that Castiel's heart both filled to bursting and cracked in the same moment.

"Screw that," Dean growled before Castiel could answer. " _Crowley_ , Cas? What the hell?" He looked angry. Not the angriest Castiel had ever seen him, but certainly angry. It was understandable.

"I didn't believe I had a choice," he said as calmly as he could. "If you understood what it was like –"

"I don't need to understand, he's a _demon_ , Cas! We don't work with demons anymore than we make deals with them." Dean stood up and paced restlessly across the room, looking like a caged tiger. "At least tell me it's not too late to stop this…this Purgatory crap?"

"No," Castiel murmured. "Not yet. Balthazar is tracking Crowley as we speak. He'll finish what I should have."

"Yeah, well, way to clean up your own messes." Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I mean, Jesus, Cas."

"I'm sorry," And he was, he truly was. He would have gone through with the plan – opened the door to Purgatory and used the power inside to win the war – but he was sorry for the trust it broke between he and the Winchesters. In his whole life, he'd never considered anyone to be family more than they were.

Dean shook his head, his eyes drawn. "Whatever. It's over." He slanted a look over at Castiel. "It _is_ over, right?"

"Yes," Castiel said. "Balthazar tells me there was a threat, a band of creatures attempting to find the same doorway we were. But when Raphael perished, it caused a…ripple effect between worlds. They didn't succeed, and it alerted anyone paying attention. I believe Crowley took care of them before they had a chance to try again."

"And Balthazar will take care of him before he does," Sam said, shooting Dean a look. "So sit down already. It's not the end of the world."

"Yet," Dean muttered, but he took a seat in the battered chair next to Castiel.

"We've all made mistakes," Sam said quietly, still speaking to Dean, but looking at Castiel now. There was reassurance in that gaze that made Castiel tremble.

Dean grunted, but his expression eased a little when he shot his own glance over to Castiel. "Just remind me that I owe you a beat-down before your mojo comes back."

Castiel ducked his head to hide the small smile. "I will, of course," he promised.

"You still haven't told us what made the teenage mutant ninja angel go supernova." Dean looked at Castiel inquisitively, and even Sam was leaning forward now, eager to hear how Castiel had finally won.

Castiel took a breath to steady himself. Clasped his hands in his lap to hide the way they wanted to tremble. "I admit, I had very little to do with the way things turned out," Castiel said. "The fact is, there are none in Heaven who have that sort of power. But my…" Another breath, deeper this time. "The child I carry would."

A pin dropping would have sounded like shattering glass in the ensuing silence. Both Sam and Dean blinked at him several times, jaws hanging open, eyes wide and shocked.

"Your…child?" Sam stammered, at the same time as Dean said, "That was a joke, right?"

"Dean," Castiel said tiredly, "have you ever known me to joke about anything? And yes, Sam. My child." _Our child_ , he wanted to say, but not yet. Not yet.

"But…how did you…when… _dude!_ "

Trying to translate Dean's sputtering into full, understandable sentences took Castiel a moment, but he got the general idea. "As to how it happened, I believe you're familiar enough with the basic concept, and I sincerely doubt you want the details. The _when_ occurred only a short time ago. And gender means very little when it comes to angelic conception." He paused. "Though I admit, I did not actually know it was possible until now."

Dean looked like a fish out of water, with that incredulous look he was wearing. But looking at him was still far safer than looking at Sam would have been, so Castiel kept his gaze focused there and waited for Dean to speak. "It's a…like, a real…"

"Yes, Dean. It's a real child. Well, more of an embryo, right now. Had it been purely angelic, it would be different, but this child will be born looking human, for all intents and purposes." He believed, anyway. Even he couldn't remember the last time a child had been born of both worlds. Before his time, perhaps, or simply not something he was privy to.

Dean's stare went from incredulous to suspicious like a flipping switch. "It's half-human?" he asked.

Castiel closed his eyes on a sigh. _Damn_. "Yes," he breathed.

"Cas, _who?_ " Sam asked, then seemed to catch himself. "Uh, I mean, not that it's our business, but…I just never thought…"

Castiel's eyes slid open again, and finally, he let his gaze slide to the younger of the Winchesters. "Sam."

Sam flushed. "Sorry. Sorry, it's not…"

"You deserve to know." Castiel looked back over to Dean, a silent query, and Dean understood immediately. He inhaled sharply, his eyes flashing and then darting over to his little brother and then back again.

"No," he said. "No freaking way."

"What?" Sam asked, looking between the two of them, desperately confused. "What's going on? Dean?"

Castiel's heart ached. "Sam, I know you don't remember anything from Hell, or from –"

" _Don't_ ," Dean growled, his hands gripping the armrests so hard his knuckles were white. "Damn it, Cas, how the _fuck_ –"

"It was a mistake –"

"You're damn right it was!"

"– but _she_ is not."

Dean glared at him, breathing erratically, his eyes hard. It lasted for a long moment, and then he seemed to collapse inward, crossing his arms and closing his eyes and looking as though the world was ending all over again. "Damn it," he said again, lower this time. "Fine. _Fine_."

"Cas?" Sam asked, when the silence felt so oppressive it was like drowning. "What are you two talking about?"

"The past year and a half, Sam," Castiel sighed. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Dean place his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. "And what happens to humans when they have no soul – no conscience – to guide them."

~

To say the rest of the conversation didn't go well would be an understatement. Hours later found Castiel back in the panic room, simply because he didn't know where else he could go. Sam was sitting in the scrap yard on top of one of the cars, in shock, unwilling to talk to anyone. And Dean had taken the Impala and vanished, probably to the closest bar he could find.

This was a mess Castiel had no idea how to fix.

He longed to pray to his Father, but God had long since proven himself an inaccessible confidant. There was no one Castiel could go to for advice, and likely, nothing anyone could say to make the situation better.

With nothing else for it, Castiel lay back against the pillows on the cot, closing his eyes and taking a few deep, even breaths. If he concentrated, he could almost feel the pulse of light from within. Almost sense the miracle he carried. His hand went to his stomach, and he forced himself to relax. To _feel_.

She was there. Just within reach, barely a flicker to his battered grace, but she was there. It was enough. It was _hope_ , however small an amount.

Castiel had no idea how long he'd been lying there when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs again. Only one set this time, and he knew it was Dean before the man appeared in the doorway and cleared his throat. Castiel opened his eyes, shifted over but otherwise made no move to get up.

Dean blinked, then made his way over and tentatively took a seat beside the angel. Castiel was surprised by how sober he seemed. Perhaps he'd only gone driving to clear some of the anger, not to find a place to drown it in his usual fashion.

"So," Dean said, awkwardly. He looked away before he managed to continue, his hands clenching in his lap.

"You came here to say something," Castiel noted. "I'd prefer if you said it now, rather than make me wait and wonder."

"Fair enough." Dean turned back, his eyes darkened to moss-green by the weight he always felt like he was carrying. "I get why Sam – why the T-1000 Sam – would do what he did. Go along with…" He waved a hand, grimacing. "You know. But I don't get why you would, Cas."

"It was a moment of weakness," Castiel replied, shoving away the now familiar tendrils of regret. He didn't even consider lying, not about this. "Sam was…far too convincing, and I was not at my best. He offered me something I thought I wanted, and by the time I realized that what he offered wasn't at all what I desired, it was too late."

Dean's gaze practically seared through him. "Uh huh. And how long've you been in love with my baby brother?"

He flinched before he had time to brace himself, felt the pain lance deep before he could school his expression, and by the time he had, Dean's eyes had softened exponentially. "How did you –"

"Wasn't hard to figure out, Cas." Dean's voice gentled a fraction. "How long?"

It took Castiel a few seconds to answer. "I don't know. Sometime during the year when Lucifer…" He swallowed, lowered his eyes. "It wasn't until Sam's stand against Famine that I realized." His smile felt bitter, fractured. "I blamed it on the way I was falling. So many emotions, so many feelings I didn't have any control or understanding of. What was one more?"

Dean shook his head, resting a hand on Castiel's shoulder. "I wish you'd talked to me, man."

Castiel slanted his eyes over. "You are not one to appreciate…bonding moments, Dean. You would have made a joke, written it off, possibly even yelled. But you would not have taken it seriously. And I didn't understand myself, not in any way I could have articulated."

Dean grimaced again, acknowledging the truth of Castiel's words. "Look, Cas, you're family, in all the ways that matter. We've…been through much together, remember?" Castiel blinked at the echo of his own words, feeling warm inside. "We'll get through this, too. I mean, yeah, I'm pissed as hell. About a lot of things. But Sam was right about one thing, we've all made some crappy mistakes."

"Then you're all right with…all of this?" Castiel asked. It was an effort not to curl in on himself, give in to all the uncertainty threatening to burst out of him.

Dean blew out a breath. "Give me a couple days to wrap my head around it. But. Yeah, Cas. We're okay. And Sam, he will be too, just give him some time. Right now, he's got a lot of guilt that he shouldn't have hanging over him. Plus there's the whole, _hey look, I knocked up my brother's male guardian angel_ thing." He grinned a little, nudging Castiel with his leg. "We'll get him through."

 _Father, I hope so_ , Castiel thought desperately. To Dean, he said, "You're being surprisingly accepting right now. I'm inclined to wonder how drunk you are."

Dean snorted. "My brother just got his soul back from Hell, it's kind of a priority right now. Give me a couple days, I'm sure the shock will come." His eyes went to Castiel's still flat abdomen. "I mean, Christ, that's my _niece_ you got in there." And suddenly, his tone was turning awestruck. "That's actually…"

Castiel's lips twitched, tilted up a fraction. "Yes, it is." He paused, then said, "I can't regret it, Dean."

Dean's eyes met his, and he squeezed Castiel's shoulder again. "You shouldn't. We'll make it work. We will, Cas. Not gonna let you down."

"I believe you," Castiel said with another very small smile. "You never have before." Perhaps Castiel should have expected this from Dean, who had always put family first and wanted nothing more than for his loved ones to be safe and happy. Dean had desired a life outside of hunting for a long time, and maybe he thought this was a way out for all of them.

Castiel wanted that to be true, for Dean's sake, and for Sam's. He was going to do everything in his power to make it so.

~

In a house the size of Bobby's, with only so many places to hide, it was incredible that Sam managed to avoid Castiel for as long as he did. Not that Castiel tried very hard to find him, because the truth was, he was afraid. He was afraid of inadvertently hurting Sam more, and he was afraid of facing Sam's rejection, either of himself or of their child.

It was impossible to believe that there could be any kind of happy outcome. No matter how accepting Dean was (and he was already tumbling headlong into love with the idea of being an uncle), Sam was busily drowning himself in guilt.

What it really came down to was that Castiel just didn't know what to do or how to handle this without making it worse.

He didn't blame Sam. Of course he didn't, how could he? He cared for Sam deeply, he had for a long time, and what happened that night couldn't change Castiel's feelings.

And regardless that it had not _really_ been Sam he'd been with, not in any of the ways that mattered most, the child was both of theirs. Sam deserved to be a part of her life from the very beginning. If he wanted it.

God, Castiel hoped that he wanted that.

If not, Castiel could handle it. He would never make Sam live with the consequences of something that was not his fault. The child would be welcome in Heaven if he went back home, or perhaps he could still choose to remain on earth and raise her here, only away from the Winchesters. It would be painful in either instance, but he could do it.

But first, he had to face his fears and talk to Sam. When Sam's guilt and heartache and his own fears were removed from the equation, what would Castiel find?

With a deep sigh, he admitted that there was only one way to know.

~

Castiel found Sam sitting on the hood of a clunky, rusted hunk of metal that was maybe once a vehicle in a past life. He was leaning back against the windshield and staring up at the stars, and his expression was utterly heartbreaking.

"Sam," Castiel said, stopping a foot away from the car.

At the sound of his voice, Sam visibly startled, jerking into an upright position and staring hopelessly at Castiel. "Oh…" he breathed. "Jesus, Cas, you scared me. Uh. Everything okay?"

Castiel tilted his head a fraction. "I was coming out here to ask you the same. Perhaps we could talk inside?"

Sam flinched. "Yeah, course." He jumped off the car and gave Castiel a smile so false that Castiel had to stop himself from cringing away from it. He followed Sam inside, allowed the hunter to busy himself with making a pot of Bobby's horrible coffee to give them both a little more time to avoid the issue.

"So, uh, where's Dean?" Sam asked, keeping his gaze carefully centered on the coffee pot.

"I believe he's pretending some sigils in the panic room need to be touched up in an attempt to give us time to speak privately," Castiel replied, only realizing after that perhaps he shouldn't have been quite so honest. Sam was gripping the counter now, his hands clenched around it like it was a particularly necessary life raft.

"Cas…" Sam's voice was tortured.

Castiel kept his gaze level. It was the least he could do, the only respect he could show both of them anymore. "You should know that I don't blame you. In fact, the more time that passes, the more grateful I am for this…this gift I've been blessed with. Aside from the fact that it saved my life in a very real way, she is a miracle. She is a part of someone I care for very deeply, and my only regret is that that person had very little real part in her creation. I would not give her up, Sam, not now. But I would change the circumstances in which she came to be, if I could. If you wanted…" He stopped, because this wasn't something he meant to talk about yet. Sam's shoulders were already one long line of tension, but he did have one more thing he needed to say. "If you prefer to have no part in her life, I'll understand, and I'll never hold it against you. But Sam, you must tell me. The longer I stay…" … _the harder it will be to leave._

Sam finally turned away from the counter to face Castiel, his eyes wide. "No! No, Cas, Jesus, that's the last thing I want! I just. Christ, I have no clue what I'm doing. What I _should_ be doing. I fucked up, I ruined…so many things. I don't even remember it, but I –"

"It was _not_ you," Castiel cut in, his voice hard, his patience worn thin. "You are always so quick to find reasons to feel guilty, but whatever things the physical part of you did these past months, you are not responsible. How could you be, when the heart of you was still…" He can't even think it, let alone say it. He took a breath. "And for whatever it may be worth to you, I forgave you – your soulless counterpart – well before your soul was returned to you."

"Cas." Sam's voice broke on his name this time, and then Sam was striding across the kitchen and falling to his knees on the hard floor in front of Castiel, reaching for his hands and burying his face in Castiel's lap, shuddering from the force of the sobs that were suddenly racking his body.

It was some sort of instinct Castiel wasn't even aware he possessed that had him sliding out of the chair, kneeling in front of Sam and pulling the trembling man into his arms. One arm slid around Sam simply to hold on, and the other hand rose to tangle in his hair, and for long minutes, they stayed just like that, the only sounds to be heard Sam's desperate sobs and Castiel's own wild heartbeat.

Castiel thought this had probably been coming for some time. Maybe since the moment Sam regained his soul, since waking up in the panic room with his last memory being his tumble into Hell. What man wouldn't break under the pressure of that alone?

"Sam," Castiel said, when the crying had tapered off and the trembling had eased and Sam felt warm and exhausted and pliant in his arms.

Sam didn't move, just continued to cling to the angel, his tear-stained face buried in Castiel's shoulder, hands fisted in the back of his shirt.

Gently, as gently as he could possibly manage, Castiel didn't pull away, but he did get them both back on their feet. "You should rest," he said softly. "Will you come with me?"

Against his shoulder, Sam nodded, very slowly. He pulled away just enough that Castiel could keep an arm around him, supporting him as they made their way upstairs, but he ducked his head and wouldn't look at Castiel as he wiped at his face with his jacket sleeve.

It was all right. Castiel understood. He helped Sam up the stairs and into the room the brothers were sharing, grateful that Dean was still elsewhere, trying to give them space to talk. Talking would have to come later, but that was all right too.

Sam was practically swaying on his feet when Castiel guided him onto the bed, taking first Sam's shoes and jacket off and then his own. Gently pushing Sam back onto the pillows and then hesitantly climbing into the other side. Wondering if he was even welcome here, but not wondering for long because then Sam nuzzled in closer, throwing an arm over Castiel and tugging him in, shifting them around until his head was resting on Castiel's chest and Castiel's arm was curled around the hunter.

They fell asleep like that, holding onto each other like there was nowhere else in the universe either could stand to be in that moment.

~

Castiel was ready for the awkwardness he knew would come the next day, and he wasn't disappointed. He was awake when Sam crawled as quietly as possible out of bed and all but bolted for the solitude and safety of the bathroom. Castiel stared up at the ceiling and sighed.

Downstairs, Dean was sitting at the table drinking coffee, and he graced Castiel with an inquisitive eyebrow when Castiel took a seat next to him. "Sam hiding in the bathroom?" Dean asked.

"How did you know?" Castiel wondered, taking a miniscule sip of coffee when Dean held his mug out to him.

"Sammy's great at yapping on about how everyone should talk about their _feelings_ , but the kid's not always the best at taking his own advice when it actually matters." Dean rolled his eyes, taking his mug back and downing the rest of the bitter dregs. "You guys manage to talk at all yesterday before passing out in _my_ bed?"

Castiel didn't bother apologizing, assuming it would just earn him another roll of Dean's eyes. "Only a little, and I don't know how much it helped. But it's progress, anyway, as long as he doesn't go back to avoiding me."

Dean nodded. "I'll get out of your hair today then. Bobby got a call about a hunt next town over. Since he's still working a case of his own, I can tackle this one."

"Are you sure you'll be all right on your own?" Castiel asked.

Dean gave him a very dry look. "I did the job on my own for a good long time, thanks. Just your average ghost, anyway. I'm good. Be back before dinner, I'm sure."

"If you're sure," Castiel said with a sigh.

There was the eyeroll. "Oh," Dean said, standing to go rinse out his mug. "Your BFF Balthazar stopped in yesterday. I didn't get much out of him besides a look I assume was meant to make me feel like a slug, but he did leave this for you." He swiped a piece of paper from where it was pinned under the toaster and handed it to Castiel. "Figured if it was urgent, he'd have just barged in and given it to you himself."

Castiel nodded absently, reading over Balthazar's note, amused in spite of himself that it was written in five separate languages, two of which were dead. Clearly, he'd intended to annoy Dean as much as possible. "He found Crowley," Castiel said, "and took care of him, though it doesn't go into specifics. He also says that the angels are lost and confused without a leader, but the fighting has ended. Rachel, my lieutenant, is doing what she can to provide order in my stead."

"You trust Balthazar to be telling the truth?" Dean asked.

"In this case? Yes." Castiel shook his head. "He has no reason to lie. And I believe he hopes I'll return to Heaven once my grace has recharged."

"Will you?" Dean's eyes were sharp now, but there was no judgment in them, regardless of what choice Castiel made.

"That decision lies with Sam," Castiel replied, keeping his voice as even as he could.

Dean nodded, and they spent the rest of their time together that morning in silence.

~

Castiel was meditating when Sam found him. As an angel, he found the mental exercise to be pointless and even illogical, but now it was soothing, and it kept him feeling connected to his grace, even as weak as it was. The air around him was crisp and cold, but rather than being uncomfortable, it felt refreshing as he breathed it in.

"I was wondering if you'd hide inside forever," Castiel said when Sam walked up to him but remained silent. He opened his eyes and took in the hunter standing only a few feet away, hands shoved in his pockets and looking awkward and tense.

"I just…you wanted to talk, yesterday." Sam's shoulders were hunched as he spoke. It had been a long time since Castiel had seen him look so ill at ease.

"I still do," he said. "If you think you're up to it."

Sam shrugged, tried for a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm better than I was, I think. That counts for something, right?"

Castiel nodded. "It counts for much, Sam," he assured. He stood, stretching a little just to feel the satisfying pop of his spine, a curious sort of pleasure he'd never had as an angel, and had been in too much pain to enjoy as a human. "Would you like to walk?" he asked, nodding toward the edge of Bobby's property and the town beyond.

Sam blinked, and Castiel wondered if he'd ever walked anywhere around here just for the simple enjoyment of it. Castiel certainly never had, but it seemed like something he wanted to try, and he'd rather do it with Sam by his side. "Um. Sure," Sam said after a few seconds hesitation. He took a couple of hesitant steps toward Castiel, and Castiel gave him a small smile as he led the way through the maze of cars and piles of loose metal.

At the gate, Castiel glanced at Sam. "Right or left?" he asked.

Sam shook his head, looking amused in spite of himself, and nodded down the road to the right. "The bar and the road in and out of town are both on the left. I've been that way plenty of times."

"Right it is."

They were quiet for the first stretch of their journey, taking twists and turns that Sam pointed out but didn't elaborate on his reasons for taking. Castiel watched Sam as much as – if not more than – he paid attention to where they were going. Sam's face was flushed with the cold, and his eyes lit on everything from the trees to the houses to the squirrels that were frantically gathering the last remnants of acorns from the ground. Taking in the view of the world he had saved, though Castiel sincerely doubted he saw it that way.

They were two or three miles from the salvage yard when Sam finally broke the silence. Staring at his feet as they continued walking at a steady pace, speaking so low that Castiel only heard him because he was paying such close attention, he asked, "So, it's…it's definitely a girl?"

Castiel realized that his smiles, once so awkward to a being who'd never had need for such expressions in the past, were beginning to come easier now. His lips twitched, and the warm glow at his center brightened with the sudden combination of joy and hope, and he answered, "Yes, she most definitely is."

"That's…" Sam shook his head, his expression stunned all over again. "Wow, Cas. I wish I knew what to say."

"You don't need to say anything until you're ready to," Castiel told him. "I can wait, as long as you need." It would be painful, more and more with every day that passed, but he'd do it.

"Cas, look," Sam said, stopping and turning to face Castiel, reaching out and pressing a hand to Castiel's arm. Keeping him at a safe distance, but also keeping contact with him as he met Castiel's eyes for the first time since they'd started out. "I don't really know how I'm supposed to feel about all of this, but whatever else happens, I want…I want to be a part of her life."

Castiel's heart sped up, his hands clenching and unclenching as he fought not to reach out to Sam. "You do?"

Sam swallowed hard, nodded. "I convinced myself I didn't want that, you know? A family, a normal life, everything that came with it. But that's not true. It's…a lie I told myself, hoping it would make this life easier. But, God, Cas, I still want that. So much."

Relief flooded him, a warm wave of it that had Castiel breathing easier than he had in so, so long. "I'm very glad for that." More than even he, with his knowledge of every language that had ever been known to man or angel, could ever put words to.

Nodding, Sam stepped back again, the flush on his face deepening. "Um. Have you thought about…names, or anything?"

Castiel smiled again, this one even brighter – and more amused – than the last. "No. I'd been hoping that was something we could contemplate together."

Ducking his head, Sam grinned and nodded. Said, "I'd like that," as they started walking again.

There was another period of silence, and then as the entrance to the salvage yard came back into view, Castiel spoke up again. "Sam, I have to ask. You said that you didn't know how you are supposed to feel. But without looking at reasoning or logic, guilt or responsibility, you must feel something. Even if you don't think you should, or you believe that what you're feeling is wrong, somehow, I wish you would tell me what those feelings were."

Sam didn't answer right away. They walked the rest of the way through Bobby's yard in silence until, just before the steps leading to the porch, Sam stopped again and took a breath. "Cas. That night. How did I…he…" Sam stopped, looking frustrated. Tried again, slowly and haltingly. "What did…he…say, that convinced you?"

Castiel took his time in answering. When he finally did, his voice was quiet, and he knew he couldn't mask the sadness that lurked behind it. "He told me that you loved me."

"Oh," Sam whispered, closing his eyes and leaning against the railing. When he started laughing under his breath, Castiel raised an eyebrow. It wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting, and he wondered if he should be worried.

"Sam?" he questioned, taking a single step closer. Wanting to reach out, but so afraid to.

Sam's eyes opened again, and he met Castiel's gaze unflinchingly this time, lips still curled in a smile even though tears were gathered in the corners of his eyes. "I was _happy_ , Cas. I hated myself for it, and I thought you'd have every reason in the world to resent me if you found out. But when you told us about her, and about everything that happened, my very first reaction…" He took a step toward Castiel, and now they were close enough to touch again. "For what it's worth, Cas…he wasn't wrong."

Another step, Sam right in Castiel's space now, the hunter staring down at him with his heart in his eyes, and Castiel wondered if this was how it felt to fly with no other purpose than for the sheer enjoyment of it. "Sam?" he said again, quieter this time.

"Yeah, Cas." Sam's hand found Castiel's, and he laced their fingers together. Castiel could feel the fine tremor running through the hunter, but Sam didn't let it stop him from running his other hand along Castiel's arm, up to his neck, his thumb tracing patterns along Castiel's collar.

"I think I'd like to kiss you now," Castiel told him.

Sam laughed, managed to say, "You only think?" And then he was bending down to claim Castiel's mouth in a kiss that was nothing at all like the last – the first – they'd shared. For all the want and the lust and the need Sam without a soul had exhibited, it was nothing to this intense passion he had now as his tongue traced the seam between Castiel's lips, as he pulled the angel closer and all but devoured him.

This was what Castiel had been craving that night, and he wondered that he'd ever allowed himself to believe even for a moment that the man before him now was the same as he was then. This Sam was lit from within, a fire in his soul that could not be matched, and certainly could never be imitated. The regret for his mistake pulsed again, deep inside, but then Sam murmured his name, brought their clasped hands up to press against Castiel's stomach, and whatever guilt remained shattered. When Castiel said Sam's name this time, it came out like a sob.

"I know," Sam said against his mouth. "I know, Cas."

"I love you." The words came easily. This was Sam, and Castiel felt like he'd been made to love this man. This man, who'd given so much for so many and never asked for anything in return. "I love you," he said again, and no matter how many times he said it, it would never be enough to truly convey the depth of the feeling.

~

"What do we have to do, to get ready for her?" Sam asked, lying by Castiel's side hours later. He traced a gentle finger up and down Castiel's arm, and the simple touch was something Castiel thought he could happily revel in forever if given half a chance.

He turned toward Sam, propped himself up on his elbow so he could gaze down at him. "It's nothing you'll need to worry about," he promised. "She'll grow just as a human child would. When the time comes, Balthazar will take me to Heaven if I can't summon the strength myself. There are healers among the angels who will be far better equipped to help than anyone here would be."

Sam nodded, looking thoughtful and then unsure. "And after that…you'll bring her back?"

Castiel's heart trembled at the idea that Sam even felt the need to ask. He leaned down, pressed a feather-light kiss to Sam's forehead. "As long as we are wanted here, then here is where we'll be," he murmured. "I promise, Sam."

"I can't believe…" Sam trailed off, but the wonder in his eyes belied his thoughts, and Castiel couldn't help but respond.

"Neither can I."

"Do you think we'll be okay?" Sam asked, a crease appearing between his brows that Castiel wanted nothing more than to sooth. "I mean, I'm fresh out of Hell, Cas. And we don't know what's going to happen with the angels, and the two of us have so much crap to work through and talk about, and –"

"And we _will_ ," Castiel cut in firmly. "Sam, we're going to be fine, and do you know how I know that?"

Wordlessly, Sam shook his head, his eyes wide and worried.

Castiel took Sam's hand, lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. A gesture he'd never understood the intimacy of until right now. "Because against all odds, we've made it this far."

And that was a truth even Sam couldn't deny.

~

**Epilogue  
Eight months later**

Castiel sat on the stairs in front of the house, his face tilted up toward the sun, his eyes closed as he allowed the warmth to whisper across his skin. The t-shirt he wore stretched tight around his stomach; he counted his blessings that he wasn't getting any larger, because Sam and Dean couldn't afford to add to his wardrobe again, and he didn't dare use his grace more than absolutely necessary. His child seemed to enjoy the pulses of power, but they made her playful, which made for very disruptive nights and uncomfortable days.

Still, Castiel didn't mind all that much, and it would be over soon. Soon, he'd be able to hold her in his arms, gaze into her eyes and see both himself and Sam reflected there.

A miracle, and one he would never take for granted. No matter how it had happened, he would always be grateful.

The past months had been difficult. Sam still had moments – many moments – where he felt such impossible guilt for the things his soulless counterpart had done. There was only so much Castiel could do to help, and only so much Sam would allow him to help _with_. And the wall keeping Hell at bay was getting weaker, and Castiel and Dean were doing all they could to prepare for the eventuality of its collapse. Sam worried endlessly at what would happen. How it would affect him, how he would react. If their daughter would be safe.

Castiel had no doubt anymore that Sam, of anyone he'd ever known, would be strong enough to pull himself out. But it would be difficult, and Castiel's attention would be split between his lover and his daughter.

But they'd make it through.

Castiel took a breath, released it slowly, and opened his eyes when the sound of wingbeats stirred him from his thoughts. "Balthazar," he greeted with a smile. "How are things?"

"Oh, well as can be expected," Balthazar said airily. "You're looking well, Cassie. Practically glowing."

"Thank you," Castiel replied, though he was sure that somewhere, there was sarcasm buried in his friend's words.

"And Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, I suppose they're both bright and chipper as always?"

"Wouldn't want to disappoint."

Both Castiel and Balthazar looked up as Sam came out of the house, thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, welcoming smile – or smirk – fixed on his face as he nodded to Balthazar.

"Ah, Sam, always a pleasure," the angel said. Castiel got the distinct impression he didn't mean a word of it, but that wasn't surprising. Balthazar would never be particularly fond of the Winchesters, and the feelings went both ways. They put up with each other for Castiel's sake, and as long as they were civil, Castiel figured he should be grateful for even that.

"Well Cas, everything is prepared. You're ready, I presume?"

"Of course," Castiel replied, standing. Instantly annoyed by the wave of dizziness, but Sam was there to steady him, and his warm hand at Castiel's elbow was enough to soothe him. "I admit, I'll be very grateful when this is over."

"You have been Mr. Grumpypants lately," Dean grumbled, stepping outside. "Hey Balz," he said, sketching a half-wave at the angel.

Balthazar rolled his eyes. " _Please_ can we be going?"

Castiel shook his head with a smile. "You lack patience, my friend. If you and Rachel are to continue keeping order in Heaven, you'll want to work on that."

Balthazar made a sound that bordered on disgust and crossed his arms. "What about you, Sammy-boy, got your bags packed?"

Sam blinked. "Huh?"

"C'mon Sammy, you didn't think Cas was gonna let you miss out on the birth of your own kid, did you?" Dean asked, clapping a hand on his brother's shoulder. He tossed a wink at Castiel, and Sam turned to gape at him.

"Cas, what are they talking about? I thought –"

"I discussed it at length with Joshua, and we decided an exception to the usual rules could be made, just this once." Castiel took Sam's hand, tugged him down for a lingering kiss. "So, Sam. Are you ready?"

The grin that broke out across Sam's face was brighter than sunshine. "Yeah. Holy crap. _Yes_. Let's go get ready to say hi to our daughter!" He laughed, loud and joyful, and turned to throw his arms around Dean.

"Say hi to her for me," Dean said, also laughing. "And you guys get back here fast, or I'm gonna find a way to come after you."

Given the effort Dean had put in to making the nursery as perfect as possible for her the second they'd moved into this house, this _home_ , Castiel would sooner slash the tires on the Impala than try keep Dean Winchester from his niece.

"We'll hurry," he promised. He pressed a hand to the curve of his stomach, felt her kick as though she sensed the excitement all around her. Turned back to Balthazar and said, "We're ready."

And he knew that they truly were.

 

  
~ ♥ ~  



End file.
